Hear the rushing and the gushing

Of the wind’s resounding might,

O’er the ruckus of the rain

As it howls through the night.

Hear the squeaking and the creaking

Of the house’s aging frame,

As I hunker in my bunker;

Hear the walls whisp’ring my name.

Hear the rumble and the tumble

Of the thunder on the run,

As it clashes and it bashes

On my aching ear drum.

Hear the rustling and the bustling

As the storm begins to fade,

Leaves start dancing; they are prancing,

And my sleep’s no more delayed.